Hope
by Eyes for Eternity
Summary: When it came to hope, they were holding onto something that they didn't have. Maybe it was something they'd never really had in the first place.


He hadn't planned on this, any of this. In all honesty, the only plan he would let himself believe to be true was that the Rebellion would be successful, and Katniss would choose him. They would live a wonderful life in their newfound freedom, with enough food to eat and the money to live in comfort. If they got tired of that, then they could disappear, take off into the woods and live the rest of their lives in the place that was theirs, no one else's. If she changed her mind, they could have kids; if not, he was okay with that. He couldn't see himself as a father anyway, ever. Parents were supposed to be there for their children, be their rock until they could support themselves, right? Both he and Katniss were too broken to ever be able to do that.

That was the life he wanted, the life he dreamed of, the life he looked forward to every time he shot a bullet at someone or put another idea into the bombs. It would all be worth it in the end. Every death, every day of chaos would make up for itself in the long run. That wall of hope blocked all of the reasonable, logical thoughts that fought to take place in his consciousness; it might not work out, you might die, life might still suck even if you win. The thought he shoved farthest to the back of his mind was that Katniss might not want him anymore. After seeing how she longed for Peeta and hearing her cries over his capture, he didn't know how much he was worth to her anymore. She hadn't said much to him when they were in District 13, save for her numb responses to the story of what happened, maybe a few hellos when they met in the halls.

Somewhere along the line, his wall of hope began to disintegrate. He watched as fleets and fleets of soldiers died on both sides, as innocent civilians were caught in the crossfire. He couldn't do anything. He couldn't press a button that would end it all, and eventually, a nagging voice behind where his barrier of hope used to stand told him that no, it wouldn't get better. Everyone would die. You'll fail. Life was better when society was docile to the Capitol's will, when the Districts did as they were told and didn't speak unless spoken to, and even then, watched their words with eyes like an eagle's. That hope was a waste of time and would be fruitless in the end.

And he started to believe that little, logical voice. The war wasn't an immediate victory as he had imagined while he ranted in the seclusion of the woods, it wasn't an easy fight. The sheer population of the Districts didn't overpower the Capitol's advances in technology, their educated armies and modern tactics as he assumed it would. The destruction of their society didn't look so repairable anymore, and it would inevitably take decades to rebuild after the war. Assuming they actually won.

On the other hand, he had hope when the girl he loved faced imminent death. He hoped she would survive. He hoped she would have the strength to kill when she had to. He hoped she would come home. And she had come back to District 12 in the end, mostly safe and secure. Unless, of course, you counted how she had been broken, had become the shell of what should've been, in the Capitol's eyes and the eyes of the Career districts, a proud victor. Proud of winning. Proud of surviving. Proud of killing innocent children. She was no longer Catnip, no longer his best friend, the girl he knew better than he knew himself, the girl that he had met in the woods four years ago, parched and famished. She was no longer the girl he had hoped would eventually love him, because she already had a lover, whether it was her choice to love him or not. What was he worth to her, now that she had a house in the Victor's Village, food on the table, another boy to love her and glue together what broken pieces of her he could find again?

Maybe hope wasn't so reliable after all.

When they began constructing the bomb, he hoped again. He saw a glimmer of hope in the midst of the chaotic storm that the Rebellion had become, and he held onto that. Caught up in the eye of the storm, that glimmer blinded and deafened him until it became the wall in his mind again, blocking out the despair and the logical voice. Everything would be fine. The bomb would do its job and finish off the war. It was right. It was planned. It was the little piece of his fantasy that was destined to work out, even if Katniss ended up with Peeta and it took years to rebuild their world. The rebels would win, and the Capitol would fall. It was right.

When the fires had been dampened to a thin, choking smolder and the storm had passed, it was wrong. All so, so wrong. Coin had strayed from the plan, taking advantage of the authority that now put her in the mindset of a dictator. Rebels were killed, a few hundred, maybe a few thousand. Prim, poor, innocent Prim, who was the entire reason his best friend had gone into the Games in the first place, was now lying as ashes in the Capitol. Katniss's fountain of hope had dried out; her sister was dead, supposedly by the hand of the man she had entrusted everything with, and the substitute for that man had lost any love he once had for her. Her mother had never contributed to her hope, and her father had died too long ago to make a difference. The only person willing to be her rock was Gale, and she rejected him for something that might not have even been his fault.

Katniss had always had hope, since the very beginning. It was all she felt she could rely on. Gale had passion and fury, but only a few specks of hope had ever leaked into his system. They both lost whatever they had when the bombing backfired. Who lost more? The girl who lost everything she believed in, or the boy who lost the only few thin threads he had ever had? Did it matter? No, probably not. Both of them had to try and figure out how to move on with nothing left, figure out where to start picking up what few pieces were left of themselves, how to end everything they had ever known for something better.

The hardest part of ending was learning to start again. Rebuilding themselves from scratch when all they wanted was to trade their lives with someone else's and forget everything that had ever happened. Hope was the only thing that might get them by; hope that things would get better, that they'd heal themselves eventually, that history wouldn't ever, ever repeat itself. All Gale needed to be whole again was his Catnip back, while she had lost too much to ever be complete again.

When it came to hope, they were holding onto something that they didn't have. Maybe it was something they'd never really had in the first place.


End file.
